


Blackmail

by Blue



Series: Living Arrangements [2]
Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-02
Updated: 2013-07-02
Packaged: 2017-12-16 20:21:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/866224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blue/pseuds/Blue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daniel's living with Jack and it has its consequences.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blackmail

**Author's Note:**

> References original movie and The First Ones (4x08), set about season 8. Originally posted to [Livejournal in October 2006](http://blue-meridian.livejournal.com/64105.html).

Daniel wasn’t exactly homeless this time. He’d had an apartment, but ultimately it was too much trouble to remember the care and feeding of the average residence. Not that he had been doing so much of the care and feeding recently – apparently the SGC had assigned someone to do all that for him and, wow, he hadn’t even _noticed_. It was the lack of noticing that had precipitated his latest decision. He’d informed Jack of it, and Jack had blinked, thereby acquiescing to the whole idea.

So Daniel was now living with Jack.

The guest room had become Daniel’s room (officially), the living room had acquired a few extra bits that were considerably older than anything else they shared space with, the coffee table had a near permanent stack of a dozen books, the couch held a pile of photos taken in extreme close up that were always in danger of sliding to the floor, and in the kitchen there was a damn good coffee maker and a small stash of some over priced coffee. Jack, for his part, had found the built in value of Morning Daniel. He’d seen the creature often enough, but viewing it from his kitchen table went better with his coffee than the paper – the paper didn’t make weird noises when you talked to it – and was far more entertaining when there weren't mission objectives to consider.

He was also developing an workable theory on how Daniel learned to speak Unas in less than 24 hours. 

All in all, things had gone pretty smoothly. They’d annoyed the hell out of each other for so long on missions that sitting around the living room didn’t even qualify, no matter what cartoon Jack was watching or how many times Daniel expanded on the answers to Jeopardy questions. At length. 

......

A few weeks in, Jack found the bubble bath entirely by accident (honest).

Having found himself without soap and little inclination to go on the long neglected grocery store trip, he’d gone to raid Daniel’s bathroom. It wasn’t like Daniel would begrudge him _soap_ for the love of god. Particularly considering he’d be living with the consequences. It had proven slightly more difficult than he would have thought, however. Daniel had 'body wash'. And shampoo. And _conditioner_ (Jack snorted in amusement as, apparently, the longer haired days had created a few habits he hadn’t broken). And, in the process of rummaging under the sink for a plain old bar of soap while muttering to himself " _Nothing_ is simple", he came up with a few extra bottles that he may have inadvertently sniffed.

The second one caused his eyes to light up in recognition – the reason Daniel couldn’t walk through the mountain some days without a pack of women following him. More than usual even. Damn, he’d been trying to figure that out for _years_ and it was… bubble bath?

Jack blinked.

......

He would have sworn on a stack of Bibles that Daniel was off world with SG-5 and would be for at least three more days, possibly longer in the event of hell or high water. Which was why Jack had finally deemed it worth the risk and was up to his ears in bubbles, cold beer in arms reach, and (‘cause you might as well go all out) surrounded by a half dozen candles.

On the bright side, Daniel had obviously been paying attention at some point because his stealth skills were definitely improving. On the not so bright side, he caught Jack _en flagrante bubbles_.

Jack froze, beer to his lips, eyes the size of saucers, as Daniel leaned against the bathroom doorway with what had to be the most evil smirk Jack had ever seen on him. It was a rather disturbing fallen angel effect.

And if he’d used that camera dangling from his fingertips, Jack would’ve heard it… right?

......

No, Daniel had no intention of letting him live it down. It was virtual blackmail and had Daniel always been this bad (good at it, though) or was it years of Jack’s bad (so definitely bad) influence? Regardless, Jack had heard over the course of a single day a hell of a lot of references to the inaccurate stereotyping of male roles in society, relaxation, bathing rituals, machismo, and – by far the best – gender identity issues in the modern American military as juxtaposed with cultural biases. Jack was impressed; no one did emotional blackmail like his Danny.

Which he’d been calling him in his head all day in petty revenge.

_Sand... everywhere, cold desert night, fire reflecting off stone._

_Daniel leaning in, close and far in the same motion, "Don’t you have people who care about you? A family?"_

_Opening his mouth, soul spilling out like it had nowhere else to go, "I had a family…" remembering to breathe, "No one should ever have to outlive their own child."_

_Hard breath of silence, then "I don’t want to die. Your men don’t want to die. And these people here don’t want to die. It’s a shame you’re in such a hurry to."_

_Shock like ice down his spine, skin burning in fear of his own failure as Daniel easily turned, leaving, dismissing._

_He stared after the wolf in sheep’s clothing._

Jack jerked back to himself, to Daniel staring at him from across the table in the briefing room, one eyebrow raised, while Carter yammered on about things they should both be paying attention to in regards to the next mission. Where the fuck had that memory come from? He blinked, disorienting overlay of Daniel then and now finally clearing. 

Jack smirked at Daniel and got a scowl for his efforts. At least Jack’s bad influence was in the clear – Daniel was obviously a natural.

......

Then there was the incident on PX3-592.

All Jack had to do was stay out of trouble: simple diplomatic mission, etc., etc. Daniel was off playing translator, Jack was the extraneous escort, and he didn’t even have Teal’c to talk at or Sam to pester since they were off doing other things. He’d already been banned from the meeting (after flipping one too many things across the table at Daniel, who could do this stuff in his sleep so Jack still didn’t see what the problem had been. He’d only been trying to keep Daniel relaxed, loose. He didn’t work as well when he got all tense and Jack’s solution had been _perfectly logical_.) and left to the care of a lovely, if young, babysitter.

It lead to Jack being passed out in the garden, happy as a clam, from a few random leaves his (youngyoungyoung) tour guide didn’t understand required a certain tolerance to consume in any quantity. She’d offered them to him and then munched twice as many with no problem.

After that (waking up to being shaken as hard as Daniel could, and the guy was a lot stronger than he used to be so Jack had some concerns about internal bleeding) Daniel felt sorry enough for him – and how much fun Jack would have explaining it to General Hammond – that he dropped the extra commentary.

He still kept laughing every now and then, though, and Jack kept giving him his best "don’t FUCK with me" glares. He would have bemoaned their lack of effectiveness with his advancing years, but the truth was they still worked fine on your average member of the American military. Daniel, both lacking in any concept of self-preservation and possessing balls of pure naquadah, wasn’t exactly average, so Jack didn’t take it as a sign of impending senility.

......

Jack had his revenge, however. On Daniel, not PX3-592. It started when Dr. Thompson had to accompany them to PX4-672.

Daniel didn’t like Dr. Thompson. At all.

Which was just a bad sign as far as Jack was concerned, but that didn’t stop him from egging the man on during his long monologues that had facts so grossly misplaced even Jack could spot them. He could practically see Daniel’s blood pressure slowly climbing into the range of homicidal. The kicker, though, was leaving them in a hole for two days after Daniel brushed off Jack’s order to "Wait for a better rope, Damnit!"

After the rope broke and Daniel hit the bottom – hard – the ‘bottom’ had proceeded to break through to another shaft and leave him twice as far down as the length of any rope they could manage. Along with Dr. Thompson who’d come tumbling after. Jack had promptly begun calling Daniel "Humpty".

Sam had slid down as far as she could and dropped their gear to them, then she and Teal’c had hustled the day hike back to the gate for a longer rope while Jack settled in and proceeded to annoy Daniel over the radio with Dr. Thompson annoying Daniel from right next to him. By the end of the first day, Daniel informed Jack that he was seriously considering taking up rock climbing. But while he might have the upper body strength for it (and no way in hell was Jack admitting that Daniel could bench press more than he could these days), the sides were too sheer.

Jack pointed out that this solution would still leave Dr. Thompson in the hole. Daniel didn’t really see this as a problem, but the sheer walls won the argument and at the end of day two, Sam, Teal’c, and one very long rope arrived.

They hauled Dr. Thompson up first, and then Daniel grudgingly admitted over the radio that he couldn’t climb. He’d dislocated his shoulder on the way down and torn the shit out of his arm.

"Yes, Jack, I can move my fingers but it’s kind of excruciating so you’ll have to take my word for it."

"You’ve had a dislocated shoulder for _two days_?!" Jack was staring down into the darkness. Unable to see Daniel, let alone reach him to strangle him, he turned on Dr. Thompson, who looked as if his life was flashing before his eyes.

Dr. Thompson whimpered, "He wouldn’t let me say anything!"

Jack advanced, " _Let_ you? He has a fucking _dislocated shoulder_ when he said he was _‘just fine, Jack’_ and you didn’t pipe up in all that chatter and say ‘he’s lying! How do I set his shoulder so he’s not in _so much fucking pain_?! For _two days_?!"

"He’s…" Dr. Thompson cleared his throat, "he scares me."

Jack froze. Sam, who recognized the warning signs, intervened to prevent the impending friendly fire incident and hustled the smelly, tired, and scraped Dr. Thompson out of harm’s way.

Jack, mad as hell and having very bad visions of gangrenous wounds, suddenly realized he was wasting time, quickly rigged a harness out of the extra rope, grabbed the descenders off his pack, and rappelled down. Daniel was slumped against the side of the pit, white as death under his two day beard, and his face drawn tight from 48 hours of near constant pain. His shirt was ripped up and filthy, a clumsy bandage around his forearm, and at some point he’d pissed himself when he couldn’t move. As soon as he got better, Jack was going to kill him.

Daniel looked up and gave him a weak smile. Jack hit the bottom, took two quick steps, and crouched down in a sudden stillness that was as much warning as Daniel was going to get. He stared at what he could see of Daniel’s shoulder through the torn up remains of his shirt, the dark bruising and swollen skin marking an obvious flaw in the way he was currently put together. Jack looked over into Daniel’s eyes – bright blue, too bright, spider web tangle of blood glowing where they should have been white, dark circled smudges underneath – and said, "Is there a reason you’re being a complete fucking idiot?" 

"I was not the one-!" Daniel broke off to scream and pass out.

Jack, eyes never wavering from Daniel’s, had set his hands and shoved the shoulder back into its socket while praying he was right about the angle of dislocation and that he had properly applied pressure. And that any potential nerve damage wasn’t permanent.

Working fast, and silently ripping his own ass for leaving the morphine in his pack up top, Jack lashed Daniel onto his own rigged harness and radioed Teal’c and Sam to pull _now_. He wasn’t even trying to ascend on his own with two hundred pounds of dead weight.

They hadn’t made it to the top when Daniel came to. "Jack, wh-" was all the further he got before the pain hit again. Jack heard him clamp his teeth shut on the next scream, felt Daniel’s body twitch helplessly. 

"You are a _dead_ archaeologist as soon as Janet lets you out of the infirmary. Rock climbing my _ass_."

Daniel attempted a breathless laugh, "You- shit- you… bought it. Kept you… kept you…" there was a pause for air, "from worrying."

Jack growled, concentrating on keeping himself between Daniel and wall despite the twisting and swaying of the rope, not thinking about how the rope had to be digging into Daniel just as fiercely as it was him. He’d tried to avoid the obvious damage when he’d roped them together, but he’d been in a hurry.

......

They climbed out of the pit as dusk fell and Jack sat Daniel down by the fire, proceeding to cut all the clothing off his upper body and inspect him for any infection in the various scrapes and cuts or in the larger wound in his arm. The bruising was extensive ("Well I fell through a stone floor, landed on hard packed dirt, and then had someone land on me. You didn’t expect some bruising?") but no infection other than some redness and only the slightest fever.

"You’re a lucky sonuvabitch." Jack groused, finally sitting back from cleaning and bandaging what he could, applying a cold pack to Daniel’s shoulder.

"Mmm-hmm" Daniel’s eyes were closed as he drifted in and out of sleep, thanks to the morphine shot in Jack’s kit and Sam’s tender hand feeding that involved memorable lines such as, "Eat it or I pinch your nose shut and _shove it down your throat_."

Sam was apparently torn between being worried and really, really pissed off. Jack could sympathize.

"And smelly." Jack said, "Did I mention smelly? Scruffy too."

Daniel smirked without opening his eyes, "Sorry, didn’t get my bubble bath last night."

Jack considered that strangling Daniel might actually be justifiable homicide at this point, but the General would probably consider it grounds for disciplinary action and Janet would make him suffer extensively, so he refrained, "You completely fucked up my pay back. I’ve been gloating for the last two days and you just let me. It’s all a ploy to paralyze me with guilt, isn’t it?"

"Actually," Daniel said, shifting with a grunt and a gasp, "it was a ploy to keep you from being even more annoying by asking how I was every two minutes when there wasn’t a damn thing you could do."

Jack decided he would explain to him later – using small words and possibly drawing diagrams just to annoy the shit out of him – about medics, and stretchers, and better medical supplies, and how goddamned tough the hike back to the gate was going to be for all of them, and for Daniel in particular. On the other hand, Daniel was probably going to learn it the hard way in the next 24 hours. So he’d bring an easel into the infirmary instead and use colored markers. If Sam was still pissed off, he’d use her for a first hand account. Doc’s participation was a given.

Jack sighed. He’d hardly slept the night before, standing watch at the edge of a goddamn pit and radioing Daniel with admittedly bad jokes every so often. Tonight – and probably tomorrow – would be standing watch over Daniel and making sure no fever flared up and he didn’t do anything drastic, like stop breathing. A trip through the gate home and he’d be standing watch in the infirmary, dozing in one of those damned chairs or catching a reluctant nap on a nearby bed. Carter and Teal’c had been moving fast for the last two days and the next two were going to be slower but not any easier. Back at base, they’d be pulling a lot of the watch time with him by being around if not right by the bedside, checking in, bringing food, keeping company.

He understood why Daniel had done it, completely fucking _lied_ about his injuries. Daniel knew what standing vigil was like from both sides and he’d thought to spare the worst of it for a couple days at least. But the _next_ couple days were not going to be fun and Jack would’ve really liked some say in the plan.

He looked at the remaining shots of morphine. Not enough to keep him drugged even if Teal’c volunteered to haul Daniel’s sorry ass on his back – and he would, with a lot more grace than Jack would have – but enough for tonight and tomorrow night. Walking under his own, probably limited, strength would ultimately be less painful than bouncing along on someone else’s stride. Maybe.

Flicking his gaze back, he noted the warm glow of the fire did nothing to hide the fact Daniel looked like hell. Most of the scrapes and a good portion of the bruising was hidden by the bandaging and binding, but he still smelled of sweat and piss. As soon as Sam went off for a moment, Jack and Teal’c gingerly wrestled Daniel into some clean BDUs and briefs, which was an improvement at least.

Laying out his own sleeping bag next to Daniel, Jack stretched out and started planning out his lecture on the benefits of self preservation, which he would deliver in Latin with the worst pronunciantion he could manage. Maybe in pig Latin. With randomly inserted Arabic gutter slang and painstakingly sloppy diagrams drawn in the most violently colored markers he could find.

Halfway to morning, Daniel’s gradually increasing stirrings elevated to a moan of pain. Jack, who’d had the syringe out for an hour, topped him off with the next dose and watched while the pain eased out of his face. Eventually, his lashes slid halfway up, eyes gone a thick, a water colored sky kind of blue, and he slurred out, "Thanks. S’nice."

"I hate you, Daniel."

"Mm… hmm. You… too, Jack."

......

It probably said something about his line of work that Jack usually thought he’d never seen anything so wonderful as the inside of the gate room when they made it back through the wormhole. One minute it always looked like there were still miles and miles to go on the other side of the ring, the next they were stumbling into safety, across the finish line. Some missions it felt like Christmas morning.

Over a day and a half’s travel later, they’d made it to the gate. Teal’c had to carry Daniel after all as his ankle had begun to swell after only a few hours of walking and become completely useless by the next morning. At the gate, Daniel had insisted he could at least walk down the ramp, damnit, so Teal’c had set him down, taken back his own pack that had been hooked to Jack’s, and Jack – who was about a whole foot closer in height – had helped Daniel hobble into the SGC.

Hammond was waiting for them along with Janet and a couple of medics. As soon as they appeared, Janet said, "I hear Daniel got himself in the usual-"

Jack winced at the expression on her face as she registered the situation right before she turned and pinned Sam with a glare, "You told me he was fine!" The medics had already flung themselves in the direction of the nearest stretcher. Jack didn’t understand why they didn’t just keep four of the damned things right next to the ramp. Maybe roll them over just as soon as SG-1's IDC came through.

Sam threw up her hands, "He told us he was fine! He lied!"

Jack leaned over and whispered _en sotto voce_ as chipperly as complete exhaustion would allow, "You are in sooooo much trouble, Danny boy."

Daniel winced.

......

Carry out in one hand, Jack pushed open the door into a house not much warmer than the gray October day outside. He glanced at the four pills laid out on the kitchen counter and sighed. How hard was it to- but, no. He knew the answer to that. He set the bags down on the table and followed the sound of keys tapping.

In the living room, Daniel had made an obvious concession to his current aches and pains in that his laptop was balanced on a small tray table instead of the coffee table, allowing him to sit on the couch instead of the floor. He didn’t look up as Jack walked in, still scowling and squinting at the screen in the dim light, almost curled around it with his concentration.

He did say, "Hi, Jack" as his left hand attempted to move twice as fast to compensate for the right one that was still bound tight to his chest. Jack pondered the scene for a moment in silence, but Daniel didn’t seem to notice when no reply was forthcoming. Then again, he wasn’t noticing that the house was cold and dark, that he hadn’t taken the antibiotics laid out for him, or, most likely, that he hadn’t eaten.

The bandaging and sling made it challenging, to say the least, to get Daniel into a shirt, so he’d been going without. Usually not a problem, but Jack could see the tightness in the muscles of Daniel’s back and the gooseflesh rippling across his skin from the chill. Without so much as an aspirin in his system, all of those torn up and bruised muscles were going to hurt like hell once he finally went to sit back, let alone stand up.

Jack watched for a few moments more, fascinated at how Daniel hardly even _blinked_ and contemplated what Daniel would be like as a sharpshooter if he didn’t have all those moral objections about killing people that hadn’t pissed him off. At this point, however, after hours of staring into the retinal searing depth of the screen, Daniel’s eyes had taken on a red haze visible even in the faint glow and there was smudges of salt around his lashes and in the corners where they’d been watering in self defense.

Caught between amusement and annoyance (this lost him the bet with Teal’c – Daniel would get more rest at work than home barring trips off-world or foothold situations, if only because of all the interruptions, and Jack should have _known_ that), he retrieved a towel from Daniel’s bathroom, which were larger and fluffier than his own, and threw it in the dryer to warm. He detoured past the thermostat and cranked it up a good ten degrees, stopped in his own bathroom with the oversized tub and set it to filling slowly with hotter water than he would for himself, and made his way back to the living room, flipping on lights as he went. 

Daniel winced when the overhead light came on, but his eyes kept flicking from right to left across the screen in a way that reminded Jack more of a nervous twitch than actual reading. The fact that it was actually a blown up image of an etched tablet that he was concentrating on couldn’t possibly have helped. Jack kept right on going, walking back into the kitchen where he swept two of the four pills into his palm, shook out a couple of aspirin, and filled a glass with cold water.

Back in the living room, Jack waved the pills in his cupped hand between Daniel and the screen, "Daniel"

It occurred to Jack, not for the first time, that they could train the new recruits at the SGC in withstanding Goa’uld intimidation tactics just by taking them into Daniel’s office and interrupting his work. After they learned not to wet their crisp new BDUs from that, no snake would scare them. Jack just grinned at Daniel’s murderous pique.

"Yes, Jack?"

Nope, he hadn’t noticed yet, "How was your day?"

Daniel blinked, or tried to – his eyelids seemed to be having a hard time operating, "How was my-? What time is it?"

"1800. Which is six o’clock. In the evening."

"Really? I hadn’t- oh. Ow, fuck, _ow_."

Yep, there it was. Jack clamped his teeth around the various comments regarding, once again, Daniel’s inability to take care of himself and any concept of his surroundings – and he really felt he had the high road here, because when he ignored what his body was telling him, it was for a _reason_ – saying instead, "My day was fine, thanks."

Daniel groaned and took the proffered pills, nearly fumbling them when he went to throw his head back and discovered the extent of the stiffness in his neck with a hiss of pain. He managed to get them down and drained the glass, gazing mournfully into it for a moment when he was done. Looking up and around he said, "Jesus it’s cold in here."

Jack snorted, "No shit, now get your ass up and into the bathroom. Hot water’ll help."

"But-" Daniel looked mournfully at the screen.

"Daniel"

"Jack"

" _Daniel_ "

Daniel sighed, "Okay, fine."

Daniel hobbled back towards the bedrooms, paused when he realized the water running wasn’t coming from his own, and changed course towards Jack’s without comment. Jack followed him in, swerved around him to shut off the taps, then turned back around and started unfastening the strap at Daniel’s shoulder. Daniel gave him a tired smile, "I can undress myself, you know."

Jack carefully eased the sling off with one hand, holding Daniel’s arm steady with the other and giving him a chance to take its weight, saying while he did so, "Yeah, but you’re not all that steady right now and I’m not explaining to Frasier how you busted your head open getting in the bathtub. Now shut the hell up and strip."

Daniel rolled his eyes but slid his glasses off and put them on the sink before pushing down the waistband of his sweats and balancing against Jack’s shoulder with his good hand and arm to push off each leg of them with the opposite foot. The bruising had turned half his body a kind of yellowish purple, but was fading fast enough. The swelling had gone down in his shoulder and it looked better, although the bandaging had just come off the day before. Bracing himself on Jack’s shoulder again, Daniel made it into the tub without adding to the damages and sunk chin deep in the hot water with a sigh.

Jack retrieved the take out from the kitchen and returned to the sauna like bathroom, sinking down on the floor beside the bathtub with a sigh of his own. Opening up one of the containers, he asked, "Have you eaten today?"

Daniel turned his head towards Jack, "Um…"

Jack just looked at him.

Daniel sunk a little deeper in the water and looked cagey, "I might have. I don’t really remember, but there’s a possibility that I… did. Could have. Maybe. Were there, by chance, any empty boxes in the trash?"

Jack considered hand feeding him with the now infamous Carter Method for about 5 seconds, but he handed Daniel a fork and held the box for him instead. Daniel wolfed the food down – no, he hadn’t eaten, apparently, given his happy little "Mmm... fooood..." – and then slid back as Jack stretched up to put the decimated remains on the counter and reached into the bag to draw out his own.

Daniel soaked in the hot water for a while, and after he’d eaten too, Jack sat beside him on the floor in silence. Eventually, Daniel leaned up and hunched over his thighs with a kind of pained whine, and Jack watched the stretch of the muscles in his back as they rippled under his skin. He reached over and rubbed absently and Daniel groaned, "Keep doing that."

Jack’s lips quirked and he firmed up his strokes, wondering what he could add to his repertoire of Daniel’s buttons that guaranteed him a reaction when pushed. Usually they were Pissy Daniel buttons, but a selection of surefire options to shut him up with a blissed out sigh would be sweet. Rising up on his knees, he kneaded Daniel’s left shoulder and, more carefully, the right side of his neck. Daniel whimpered and dropped his forehead lower so that his hairline broke the surface of the water.

After a few moments, Daniel made to straighten, so Jack helped him ease back and settled into his spot on the floor. Daniel said, "Thanks-"

"No problem" Jack was beginning to feel drowsy from the steam rolling off the water - it’d been a long day of paperwork and meetings with the team on stand down and that always left him feeling like he’d hiked 20 miles in bad weather. The air in the bathroom was hot and close and if it hadn’t been for the hardness of the tile floor, he would have been damn comfortable.

Daniel gave a huff of laughter, "I was going to _say_ … thanks for cleaning me up. Back on PX4-672."

Jack nodded, "No problem to that too."

But he could feel Daniel looking at him and the hair stood up on the back of his neck. Casually, he glanced over and the look Daniel had… Jack knew he was very much caught. He didn’t know how, but Daniel _knew_. Heart beating faster, he stared back at Daniel impassively.

"I should point out that I wasn’t entirely unconscious."

Jack’s mouth went a little dry, "You were out of it, Daniel." He said, voice utterly calm and slightly amused.

Daniel hmm’d and said, "Well, in and out of it, really. I came around a few times, but I was just so damned tired that I’d drift off again."

......

That second night they’d set up near a stream, so after food and morphine, Jack had wrestled Daniel away from camp to clean him up better, especially the abrasions on his leg. Moving a sufficient distance away to give Daniel a little privacy for the al fresco sponge bath, he’d made a small fire, heated some water, and got Daniel’s BDUs and briefs off. By the time he was stripped and stretched out on his bedroll that Jack had brought along, Daniel was out cold.

Noting the unconsciousness, Jack had immediately broken out his penlight and began an inspection for any additional injuries that may not have been mentioned upon cross examination – like the ankle that was rapidly swelling outside the constriction of his boots. When he turned up only scratches, he sat back and breathed a little easier.

It would have been simpler if Daniel had been in any condition to just get into the stream, which wasn’t that cold, but between his injuries and the morphine, Jack wasn’t willing to chance it, so he'd just wash him off as best he could with a washcloth. 

Daniel looked like he’d been beat all to hell. Besides the dirt, sweat, and bodily fluids, most of his left arm and part of his face had huge patches that were scraped up. There was a deeper gash in his forearm and one on his calf above where his boot ended. The bruising was more extensive - the whole left side of his torso, whole left arm, left leg, right bicep, and half his face were mottled with black, blue, and yellow bruising. Jack had killed men – and aliens – for doing this kind of damage to any one of his team. It just _pissed him off_. When that happened, it was all adrenaline he was running on and by the time the red haze wore off he was already in the infirmary and sitting vigil - whether it was for Carter, Daniel, or, occasionally, Teal’c.

This, though... They were stuck in the middle of fucking nowhere with Daniel looking like a couple of Jaffa had worked him over and the only thing Jack had to go ballistic on was a piece of fucking rope. He rubbed at his face and just looked down at Daniel from between his fingers for a few minutes, acknowledging to himself that he was irrationally pissed off at an inanimate object.

He ended up watching Daniel lay there for a while, stretched out naked and more vulnerable than he ever was awake. He knew why Janet’s minions always argued over who got to break out the sponges when Daniel was lying comatose in the infirmary. He’d been there for a few of those debates, sitting at the bedside with whispered voices drifting out from behind a nearby curtain. Turns were discussed, deals were made, blackmail engaged in, and bribes accepted. Jack was always amused and still had yet to determine if all medical personnel were so cutthroat or it was just Janet’s influence. Or maybe it was just that thoughts of touching Daniel inspired some truly devious behavior. Jack noted that on the river bank of PX-whatever, laid out with firelight licking over him, exhausted, filthy, bruised, battered… Daniel was damn good looking.

And he wasn’t even just gorgeous, he was… _beautiful_. He was _Daniel_. Only one Daniel, and no one would have argued that with him. Hell, the better part of the universe wanted one of their very own since Jack wouldn’t let them play with his anymore. Daniel would have known the words Jack was looking for, would’ve dredged them up from somewhere in his vocabulary, from some language where "good" meant "really, fucking fantastic" - but he’d never use them on himself. He’d look a little startled, head tilting off to one side, smiling to cover his embarrassment or bemusement, and he’d never really believe it. And Jack couldn't really hear himself saying it anyway.

He had groaned a little at the aches settling into his bones as he rose up, wetted the washcloth, crouched over his keeping, and began to slowly wash him down. Daniel never flinched, whether it was cleaning out the scrapes, rubbing around the twisted ankle, or even the washcloth sliding over the bruised muscles of his inner thigh, his unconsciousness was complete. He just lay there, pliant and peaceful beneath Jack’s touch. The frown he always seemed to wear these days was smoothed out, expression gone soft, lips parted, chest rising and falling with each slow, deep breath.

......

Jack stared at Daniel, but Daniel wasn’t giving anything away, expression placid to match his own careful blankness. Jack wanted to say _and your point is?_ , but he knew why Daniel had said it, knew all too well what corresponded between then and now. He realized, too, his mistake: it had been going up on his knees a few moments before, the edge of the bathtub not quite high enough. He’d thought it wouldn’t matter. He’d thought Daniel was tired, oblivious, that he wasn’t even wearing his glasses… Of course, considering what Daniel had just said, his little secret had been gone for over a week anyway. Oh _hell_.

The adrenaline washed through him like a shock of cold water, fear and anger surging up on the icy tide.

Daniel’s expression didn’t change, but his hand came up, and took Jack’s hand, the one that rested on the edge of the tub. Jack resisted, hand clinging desperately to the cool enamel, eyes and face held in careful tension. Daniel’s eyes narrowed and he relaxed the pull for a moment, finally raised one eyebrow. 

Jack kept his breathing steady, the pressure in his chest rising with the racing of his heart beat and the desperate urge to drag in enough air but he couldn’t, wouldn’t, give away the level of his panic. Daniel’s hand still grasped his, and he stroked his thumb down Jack’s fingers; like a hidden latch on a secret drawer, Jack’s tight grip let go, the back of his hand suddenly resting in Daniel’s palm. Daniel let it hover there for a moment, then slowly directed it down into the water, settling it firmly at his crotch, cupping it over his tightened balls and the base of his cock that rose up hard towards his stomach. Daniel’s eyes glazed over and he groaned, tongue slipping out to moisten his lips even as he thrust, just a little, into the pressure.

Jack’s silent denial and dismay whited itself out in his brain and it was like a short circuit; he couldn’t help a small rub, little more than a twitch, fingers sliding down to brush the spot just behind Daniel’s balls, heel of his hand riding back up the shaft on its return stroke. Daniel’s mouth had parted open and he turned his head to look at Jack, eyes sparking with arousal.

"Touch me, Jack," Daniel said, voice already deeper, rougher, "touch me the way you really wanted to."

Jack couldn’t breathe at all now, mind a litany of _Touchingtouchingtouching deargodtouchingDaniel - Jesus, too good, too much, can’t have!_ But the irresistible image of his most forbidden jerk-off fantasy had already unfolded in his brain – Daniel, sprawled naked on his bed, smug and sated like goddamn centerfold, one hand draped casually near his wet, softened dick, come still pooled on his fluttering stomach, eyes glazed and pale golden skin still flushed with pleasure, slick mouth parted with breathless pants for air, his lips still red and swollen from where they’d been riding up and down Jack’s shaft.

Jack clamped his teeth down on his lower lip in some faint desire to keep in the moan, retain some plausible deniability for a few more moments, but his hand, the one eagerly wrapping itself around Daniel’s hard cock, didn’t get the message. And Daniel’s panting, his excited whimpers, weren’t helping at _all_.

"Stroke me, Jack, Jesus, harder. _Please_." Daniel, undone, hard in his hand, begging for it – Jack’s cock throbbed against his zipper, balls tightening up and aching. He gave in and moaned.

Jack rose back up on his knees to get better leverage for the hand wrapped around Daniel’s cock. The other hand was busy fumbling at the front of his jeans, which Daniel was watching closely as he grunted and thrust harder than Jack expected, body and damaged shoulder leveraged away from the far side of the tub. Fumbling into his jeans and briefs to finally get a hand on himself, Jack’s eyes glazed over as the touch of skin sent heat straight to his balls and pushed him past the point of return. He grunted and dry jerked himself even as his other hand rode up and down Daniel's cock. Daniel was trembling, watching Jack and licking his lips even as he let out a whine. He grabbed the side of the tub with his good hand, thrust up once more and came.

Jack felt the hot tightness flare out from his balls, roll down his thighs and shoot up through the base of his spine. He curled over, coming all over himself.

When he could finally manage it, he braced his forearms on the edge of the tub, a sweet heaviness spreading through his limbs, heart still beating too fast, one wet hand and one sticky dangling over the water, still panting. He lifted his head and looked at the mess for a moment, then he looked over at Daniel, who wore the exact sated, smug, sleepy expression Jack had expected. Bastard that he was, Daniel picked up Jack’s hand, the one still dripping with Jack’s come, and began licking it off.

Jack stared, still panting, still speechless. If they were both 20 years younger, he’d- well, it's not like that was an option.

"You were right," Daniel said between licks, tongue sweeping out in little lapping motions, sliding obscenely between his fingers, "a nice hot bath" _lick_ "helped me relax" _lick_ "quite nicely." _lick_ "So," _lick_ "how long" _lick_ "have you been" _lick_ "wanting me?"

Jack conceded it was a very effective interrogation technique. He shrugged, eyes still following Daniel’s mouth, which was sucking on Jack’s middle finger, and managed to choke out, "While"

Daniel lifted his mouth off and frowned, "More specific, please." Then he rolled Jack’s hand over and started licking the palm. When Jack didn’t answer he stopped, hovering with just the tip of his tongue visible between his lips, reward obviously depending on good behavior.

Jack sucked in a quick breath, "Don’t know, really – at first it was just… it was separate. Just a- a fantasy. Then, then- Jesus, Daniel! I don’t know!" He was growling, but he didn’t retrieve his hand.

Daniel looked amused, but went back to licking, "The water" _lick_ "is cold." _lick_ "Shower?"

He bit gently at the side of Jack’s hand, light depression of teeth barely denting the flesh, and Jack whimpered, "Okay"

......

A hot shower later, as they crawled into Jack’s bed, Daniel laughed a little breathlessly.

"What?" Jack asked, grinning but on the brink of dozing off, eyes already slipping closed.

"I pretty much expected that to be a bubble bath you ran for me. You’re slipping in your old age." He could hear the size of Daniel’s smile.

Jack cracked one eye back open, "Don’t worry, smart ass. As soon as that shoulder’s better, it is so _on_."


End file.
